Oh... hello! You've caught me in mid-cough. How embarrassing. Yes, I'm still an incubator for the plague feeling a bit poorly. I didn't go in to work yesterday; I stayed home, drinking tea with honey (sadly, not of any awesome variety) and orange juice and water and eating Trader Joe's cookies (they do so have healing properties!) and snuggling up with purring kitties (Zinda - you know, the one who I bottle-reared and loves Don and bites me? - was all fluffy and sleepy-eyed and sweet. wow. WOW!). Today I was back at work (about that: bleargh. just sayin') after which I had photo-therapy and *ulp* two kickboxing classes. J. was teaching her first class tonight, at 6:15. It's all about moral support and good karma; I really had to be there. After that, I taught the 7:30 and boy-oh-boy was I loopy: "Why are you not squatting? Squat! Squat, my monkeys!" "C'mon! This is completely a Batgirl move!" "Keep your back straight, abs tight. Breathe. Move to the music. Not like me, though, 'cause I think we'll all agree I'm distressingly inept." "Right side kick! Just the right! *almost topples while demonstrating* Oh, and don't fall over. That's my mantra."

I chugged orange juice and had to step back a few times, but I made it. And it was okay. No.. actually, it was really all right. Despite my flagging energy (stoopid being sick), this was the first class I taught where I felt I'm good at this kickboxing thing. There. Silver lining.

Comedy for both of us seriously, because I taught my class on my sprained toe yesterday. "Ok, weight in your right leg and lift your left hip! Now weight in your left leg and ...ow...ok...you do it and pretend I'm doing it with you."